Making Her Laugh
by glanmire
Summary: Pairing Fred/Hermione, from early in Order of the Phoenix. Will follow canon for the most part, except for where their relationship now changes things. More chapters to come.
1. In the Armchair

George was sprawled across an armchair by the fire, and Fred thought his twin looked quite like Hermione's ginger cat, Crookshanks. His mouth was open, and he was evidently sound asleep.

Hermione herself was curled up a few chairs over, her books shrouding her. She balanced an ink pot on her lap and every once and a while she'd sink in her quill into the ink and then start scrawling again, her tongue stuck out into the corner of her mouth.

Whenever she paused for thought she'd stick the quill into her hair or behind her ear as she searched for a reference in yet another book.

Fred realised he was staring, and quickly looked back to his own essay. The common-room was deserted but for the three of them, and he reckoned it must be past midnight.

He'd meant to do a particularly vile essay for Umbridge on the applications of - of - he glanced at his essay again- defensive deferral tactics, or as Lee had aptly put it, when to run away.

Umbridge had already made him carve his apology onto his own hand for not handing the essay in on time, and he'd have another bout psychological warfare tomorrow, but Fred hadn't the heart to wake George and ask for his help.

Slowly, he began to write. He and George had identical handwriting, like everything else, and so in their characteristic scrawl he copied down the title.

He had no idea what to do next.

Fred's left hand throbbed, and he suddenly remembered an offhand comment Ron had made about Hermione and how Murtlap Essence had helped Harry.

"Hey, Hermione?" he tried.

She looked up from her books briefly. "Hmm?"

That wasn't very encouraging but the pain in his hand egged him on.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of that Murtlap Essence left, would you?"

That caught Hermione's attention. "Why, she hasn't-" and then the books were unceremoniously dumped on the floor and she made her way over to him.

"Let me see" she said, in that bokering-no-argument tone of her's, the one that oddly reminded Fred of his mother.

"Hermione, it's fine, nevermind-"

She glared at him, and then went to get the essence out of her bookbag.

Fred folded his knees up onto the armchair, making as much of a shield as he could from the oncoming wrath of Hermione.

She made her way back over again with surprising speed, the essence in bowl in her hands.

"Soak it in this for a while, it'll feel better", she said, softer than before.

"Thanks Matron Granger", he said with a wink, but they both knew it was more serious than that.

Instead of going back to her own work like he expected her to, Hermione leaned on the arm of his chair. She stared into the embers of the fire for a while, then asked, "How did you end up with that anyway?".

Fred considered making a joke out of it, but it was that time of night where you could actually tell the truth, and he was too exhausted to lie anyway.

"Didn't hand up my essay in time. Still haven't started it, to be honest."

"Here, I'll give you a hand-" she began, with that tone she took with Ron and Harry, and then paused.

"Actually, no I wouldn't be any good to you; we won't have got that far yet."

Fred looked at her. "Are you kidding? Hermione, you're the brightest person I've ever met. If I wrote down a rant about Umbridge, but used your words, I'd probably still get full marks cause it would be so damn brilliant."

That made her laugh, her front teeth large in her smile in an adorable way, and she relaxed against the armrest.

- if only he could make her laugh like that more often.

"If you have that much confidence in me, then fine, let's start this."

She just got him talking about the subject first, casually, and although he was doing a study session, it didn't feel too bad. Hermione was natural teacher, and he found himself saying things about defensive deference that he had no idea he even knew.

An essay grew in fragments; a couple of lines at a time in the beginning, and then paragraphs.

"You should quote Aurors International Bureau in your conclusion here, they've got some very relevant points", she said, leaning over him about two hours later, her brown hair tickling his nose gently as she pointed at a section near the end of the scroll. She had subconsciously went from leaning on the arm of the armchair closer and closer to him as the night wore on, not that he'd minded.

Fred slowly took his left hand out of the Murtlap Essence, hoping she wouldn't notice,and placed it very carefully on the floor, and then wrote what she said.

"That's brilliant, you're right, thanks. "

"Of course I am" she said, but she smiled, and Fred didn't know whether he was just sleep-deprived and grateful for the relief the Murtlap Essence had brought and for the help with the essay: or whether this was something that he'd thought of for quite a while now but had never acted on,

but he leaned forward just a notch and softly kissed her on the mouth.

"Thank you" he said again.

Hermione looked at him with undisguised panic, and he was suddenly very afraid that he had messed up badly.

The fire had gone out an hour or so ago but he felt the cold now for the first time, and he desperately wished that you could disapparate at Hogwarts so he could get away.

But then the unexpected happened: she laughed.

Now Fred was a great appreciator of comedy most of the time, but he didn't like much when a girl laughed after he kissed her. Especially a girl that he'd been trying to make laugh for months, and now he found out the trick to it was as easy - and yet as difficult- as kissing her? That didn't do a lot for his confidence.

But then Hermione did the truly unexpected, and kissed him back, her hands naturally running up through his hair, another sliding along onto the back of his neck. They were warm and yet not was he was focusing on at all.

He was focusing on the feel of her lips on his, the soft and welcome pressure - and then suddenly aware of the angle she was siting at.

With sudden confidence he placed a firm hand on each of her hips and lifted her- she was much lighter than he'd thought- and re-arranged her so that she was on his lap, facing him.

He was terribly afraid then that that was too much, but she laughed again, in delight - it had been this easy, all along, to make her laugh?- and then leaned back into him, smiling.

Their noses bumped a little and so he tilted his head and then they were doing what could only be called snogging. He held her lower back for dear life; his mind raced and his pulse notably quickened and he couldn't believe she wasn't mentioning it, seeing as she was pressed right up against his bony chest, how could she not hear his heart thudding like a knife against a chopping board?

Hands explored, as they are like to do, and admittedly his may have left her lower back, and she ran her own slowly down his thighs, and he couldn't help but shiver a little, though it was plenty warm again.

He'd expected her to be the sort to bump teeth- though he was perfectly fine with that too, everything in its time - and he had never imagined a situation like this, where she was pressed right on top of him, and he was the one shaking, not her.

She broke off suddenly though, and Fred let the euphoria seep out of him. This was the end. She'd say, this was a mistake, and then she'd say, goodnight Fred.

Hermione must have seen it in his eyes, because she explained apologetically, her voice breathless- he had made her breathless- "no, it's just - George!"

Fred, for probably the first time in his life, had cleanly forgotten he had a twin. George was still asleep in the corner, oblivious.

Fred looked back at Hermione, who was tracing soft runes onto the tops of his thighs with the tips of her fingers, which was making it just a little bit difficult to focus on the current problem.

They looked at one another.

"You can't come up to mine, the stairs-"

"Lee's already asleep in mine-"

and they both laughed then, because just like the way he'd pulled her onto his lap, it wasn't like that, a bedroom would be just a place to escape to- though of course he was absolutely perfectly fine with the other option bedrooms brought-

Hermione shifted an infinitesimal amount then, and that microscopic grinding motion hitched his breath.

"Oh" she said in a normal voice, like she'd just discovered an intriguing fact about Goblin Riots or something, but then she began to move in and out, in and out, and Fred was at a loss for words, another first for him.

He was meant to be the one wooing her, and yet he couldn't concentrate on anything other that simple rocking motion, the weight of her body sliding over and back on top of him.

He looked up at the ceiling of the common-room, looking for any distraction, any way to get his breath back.

What a beautiful ceiling, he reflected, his breaths shaky, what lovely-

"Fred", Hermione said softly, and his resolve broke and he looked at her again. She looked beautiful.

Her hair was tousled, her cheeks were red and her eyes lidded from tiredness. He leaned forward and cupped both hands around her face, framing it.

His hands must be huge; they dwarfed her face and that was so adorable that he was kissing her again and she was kissing him and this was all he ever had wanted-

and now they were kissing and more, and unbidden, his hands left her face and then she was the one caught for breath, panting softly into his ear and yes, this was bliss-

He woke before dawn to find Hermione asleep in his arms, her head nestled against his chest.

The common-room was empty. George had evidently woken and left at some stage in the night. Fred knew there would be hell to pay at breakfast this morning, but he didn't care in the slightest. He closed his eyes again, just feeling her weight against him, content as he'd ever been.


	2. Keeper

Hermione stared very hard at her potions essay, giving her absolute best attempt at ignoring the discussion directly behind her chair.

"Look Fred I'm not saying that it's not a good idea-" Ginny said in a tone that suggested otherwise.

"Great, then will you give us a lend of yours then?"

The ebola had to be diced into four equal parts. Hermione did not know why, and she needed to. It was vital this she learn about it right this instant, and not eavesdrop on Fred and Ginny.

"I'll only take her up once, see if she sees it," Fred was saying, which Hermione found a little disconcerting. Ginny clearly did not think it merited a reply either, and left to return to her friends.

Fred came to sit on the arm of Hermione's armchair, but he didn't twist his legs away like a civilised human being; instead he draped them over her like she was a dashboard on a car.  
"Now that's what I call comfortable" he deadpanned, as Hermione struggled beneath his lanky legs.

"Get off- move you brute" she said, laughing and pushing at his legs that seemed loath to relinquish their newfound territory.

"But I thought this was really working-" he replied before she managed to push him onto the carpet. Fred fell with easy confidence, as if he was secretly a part of the wizard circus, and then he rolled onto his belly.

Hermione used to worry about what other people in the common-room thought when Fred acted like this, rolling around on the carpet, sitting on her. Lavender and Parvati in particular used to stare unashamedly at him as he spent the evening constantly moving, trying to lure Hermione from her books. After a few days of dealing with their incessant curiosity, she learnt to shrug it off. Fred was much more captivating than spending her time wondering what others thought of her, and their opinions did not regulate her happiness.

"M'lady, it looks like Plan Q is a go" Fred said as he propped his head up on his elbows and staring intently at her, waiting for her reaction

Plan Q was Fred's latest zany scheme, though he assured her there was no profit to be made in this particular plan other than making her happy. He liked to say that with her smarts and his muscle-tone that they'd win the cup easily, and that she'd make a wonderful Keeper, and so he wanted to get her into Quidditch.

"Keeper?" she had asked incredulously the first time he had brought it up. "Surely I'd be a beater, with my propensity for violence."

"Nonsense," Fred replied, and ignored the implied joke that if she played as beater, either he or George would be out of a job.  
"Mum's always saying it in her letters." He made a face and his voice changed to an uncanny impersonation of Mrs Weasley.  
"Fred love, I'm thrilled to hear that you are dating Hermione, she's a wonderful bright young lady. Definitely a keeper!" He smiled, then cried, "What?" as she elbowed him, "That was complimentary!"

"Violent tendencies- remember?" she said in between attacks. It was only play though; the only real way to hurt Fred was to tickle him, which was strictly prohibited and she only dared to use such a devastating attack if he truly deserved it.

Ron mumbled something into his own Potions essay as she and Fred elbowed he another, and Hermione chose to ignore it.  
She pulled Fred to his feet. "Shall we say this weekend then?"

"Nope, think I have other plans, sorry-" he said, and she poked him in the ribs.  
"Oi! Seriously though, the Slytherin match, remember?"

"How could I possibly forget?"

He began to play with her hair in the peace that followed, but not in a sensual way- he took two pieces and leaned right in so they made a moustache on him.  
"Moi thinks zat it suits me." he said in a ridiculous French accent. "Vat do you think?"  
"Je pense que mon petit ami est un idiot" she threw back.  
"I didn't know you spoke French!" he exclaimed. He breathed in. "You know, that's oddly attractive."  
"That's about the extent of my French, je suis désolée. Benefits of being Muggle-born I suppose. Only extra language I have now is Ancient Runes."  
"Go on, speak some of that to me."  
She tapped him on the head. "Squiggle circle eagle cross squiggle squiggle."  
"What's that mean then?"  
"It roughly translates into: go away for a while, I have Potions to be doing."

Fred stretched and mussed her hair.  
"Alright, I do believe I have urgent business with George to be attending. Enjoy your essay. I'm sure it'll be much more fun than me." and he left her, albeit with discernible ruefulness.

She starting writing again, but found it hard to focus on Potions. She kept imaging flying with him. She was terrible and Fred would laugh, but in a good-natured way, and he'd teach her instead of just assuming she was rubbish, and they'd soar-

It was an hour later when she made her way over to him, her Potions abandoned.  
"Hermione, are you honestly stealing my brother again? We're trying to run legitimate business here." George said, only half joking.  
"A legitimate business faking illnesses to get out of class," she retorted. Just because she was dating Fred did not mean that she was not still a Prefect.  
"The very same. Go on, enjoy yourselves, I can take it from here."

Fred nodded to George in thanks and looped a hand around her waist, and they left the common-room.

Later that night when she was in her dorm she remembered. The curtains hung loosely across a dark window and she noticed how much quieter it was than the common-room. There she had Fred, she had the fireplace and her armchair, Harry and Ron.  
The dormitory was different, colder. Lavender and Parvati obviously spoke; in fact they often pulled their beds right beside one another's, but that was it.  
Hermione thought it was strange how you could sleep in the same room as people every night for years and yet still be strangers.  
She curled into bed and felt cold. There were no hot water-bottles at Hogwarts, nor electric heaters, and sometimes she missed simple Muggle technologies like that. She dragged the blankets around her and tried to sleep.

It was only then, as her brain digested the day that she remembered why she shouldn't play Keeper, even if she did have the necessary talent. That was Ron's position.

The morning after she and Fred first kissed, she had broken the news calmly to Harry and Ron over breakfast.

Ron, in a beautiful example of self-control, had dribbled pumpkin juice all over his robes as his mouth hung open in shock. He then let out a spew of profanity with a similar expression that he had worn when he threw up slugs in their first year.

Harry hadn't seemed too bothered either way, and only seemed to regret the detrimental effect Hermione's newfound romance on his own grades, and Ginny took it well too, only asking that Hermione not go into explicit detail, but Ron did not adapt as quickly.

"But- when did this all-" he asked her that afternoon in the back of Charms, safe from Fred's ears.  
She knew better than to say an excessive amount to him as it would only exacerbate his general state of malcontent, so she stayed tight-lipped about the whole thing.

The boys were her friends and they had fought together- and admittedly with one another- and Hermione trusted them, but she still wasn't altogether comfortable talking about boys to them. Look how badly Ron had taken to Victor, for Merlin's sake. She didn't know which was worse, when she had had an unspecified relationship with Ron's idol, or a concrete relationship with his older brother. No wonder the poor boy was flabbergasted.  
She managed to drift to sleep eventually, and she dreamed of flying.

That weekend, Gryffindor played Slytherin. That was the match where Umbridge banned Harry, Fred and George from Quidditch for life.


End file.
